Foul Play: Part Two
by CRedford
Summary: ...the plot thickens! More John/Sherlock banter, more mystery, and more Sherlolly. Read and enjoy (hopefully), and please comment (if you feel so inclined)
1. Chapter 1

_Two Miles North of Bradwell, England_

"Welcome to ADRAD, Mr. Holmes," a man in a military uniform said, approaching the Holmes brothers and their entourage of security personnel. He stopped in front of them, nodding at Mycroft before extending his hand to Sherlock. Sherlock stared at him, taking his hand after a moment and shaking it slowly.

"Don't mind my brother. He's a bit...shall we say socially inept?" Mycroft glanced at Sherlock, who ignored him, smiling back at the soldier.

"Lieutenant Brinkley." The soldier smiled at Sherlock, who nodded in return. "Honor to meet you, sir. Now I suppose you'll be wanting to know what you're doing here."

"I think I have an idea."

"Well," the Lieutenant said, motioning for them to follow him down the hallway, towards a large, steel door. "First thing you know is what ADRAD stands for."

"Advanced Defence Research and Development." The Lieutenant turned to Sherlock, mouth open.

"How would you..." The Lieutenant paused, glancing at Mycroft. "This is a classified operation. How did he know that?"

"Oh please," Sherlock said, a quiet smirk playing on his lips. "Exercising the slightest amount of creativity when it comes to naming their secret operations would be a foreign concept to the British government."

"Don't be offended, Lieutenant. He's just showing off now," Mycroft said, his lips pressed tightly together as he smiled, glancing at Sherlock. "He can't help himself."

"Well. It was certainly nice of him to volunteer his services for the operation," Lieutenant Brinkley said, nodding at Sherlock as he opened the door, revealing an even smaller tunnel, with stairs leading them further underground.

"Yes. Quite generous of him," Mycroft said, smirking at his brother. Sherlock's head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he scowled at Mycroft.

"Come now, brother," Mycroft said, chuckling as he shook his head. "You didn't really think your little stunt you pulled was enough to send you to Belmarsh, did you?"

"You told me," Sherlock said slowly, his stare increasing in intensity. "That it was either help you, or go to prison."

"Well." Mycroft said, shrugging his shoulders as he smiled smugly, leaning back on his heels. "I lied." Sherlock bit his lip, straightening his shoulders after a moment and turning to the Lieutenant.

"Something wrong?" The Lieutenant asked, looking between the two of them questioningly.

"No." Sherlock said quickly, his voice cold. He avoided Mycroft's gaze as he nodded briskly. "Continue."

"Very well," Brinkley said, giving him a final stare before leading them towards the stairwell. "We'll be at the base shortly."

_221B Baker Street_

"John, where are you?"

"I'm...I'm at home," John said, glancing around the flat as he held the phone to his ear. "Is there somewhere else I should be?"

"Good. Call a cab."

"What? Where am I going?"

"Bradwell."

"Sherlock, are you alright? What are...hang on, Bradwell?"

"Yes. Actually, we're a few miles north, but I'll be available for directions if you need them. Getting through security might be a bit difficult..."

"That's miles away, Sherlock. I can't call a cab..."

"Then drive yourself. Sarah has a car."

"Sarah and I broke up last week."

"Pity." Sherlock sighed, examining the wall to his room. "Well, find one. I need you here by morning."

"Where are you?"

"Defense operations base. It's the ministry's little underground research project, apparently."

"In case you've forgotten, we don't exactly have a great reputation with top-secret military bases. We'll both get sent to prison."

"Oh, don't worry about that. No one's going to prison."

"But you said..."

"Mycroft lied because he thought it was the only way to get my help. As of now, he's under the impression that he succeeded in misleading me." Sherlock paused, waiting for John's response as a small smile found its way to his lips.

"Are you saying he didn't?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Sherlock said, the pride evident in his voice. "We need access to the Ministry's files, and Mycroft has provided the perfect opportunity."

"Why do you need their files? And we?" John said, his head lifting slightly. "What do you mean by _we _? Sherlock, I am not breaking into..."

"I'll get you clearance," Sherlock said, eying the desk at the far corner of the room. "Be at the main gate by six."

"But where..."

"I'll text you the location."

"Sherlock, I can't. We don't have a car."

"Then find one."

"I'm not going to do this, alright? You've gone too far this time, and I'm not..." He paused, realizing that Sherlock wasn't on the other end of the line. Sighing, he tossed his phone onto the coffee table, running his fingers through his scalp. After a moment he stopped, picking up his phone as he sat down on the sofa, dialing a number that had become familiar to him since moving in to Baker Street.

"Lestrade? Yes, it's...it's John Watson," he said, nodding to himself. "Yes...very well, thanks...yes, actually...there is something you can do for me. Could you get me a phone number?" He glanced through the window, gazing at the rooftops on the opposite end of the street. "I need you to ring St. Bartholomew's Hospital."


	2. Chapter 2

_Bradwell, England_

"We've gone to far. That was...wait, that's Manchester Road! Turn!"

"We're not turning on Manchester Road, we're passing it."

"No, the thing said turn left on Manchester Road."

"What thing? Your phone?"

"Yes...and now we've passed it." John sighed, shaking his head. "It's almost six o'clock." He watched as Molly drove, keeping her eyes focused on the road in front of her.

"I know where to go."

"How would you know? This place isn't even on the maps."

"Exactly why I'm not taking directions from that thing of yours," she said, a small smile crossing her face as a small metal gate appeared on their right. "I think this is us."

"That's not a military base, that's someone's driveway," John said, exasperated as he watched Molly turn, stopping in front of the gate. They sat in silence for a moment, staring at the overgrowth covering the rusted iron bars. Trees loomed overhead, casting ominous shadows on the entrance and the path beyond.

"I grew up in Bradwell," Molly said after a moment, her eyes still fixed on the trees. "I lived with my dad during the summer. My brother and I would bike down this road every day, and one day we noticed it," she said, nodding at the gate before glancing at John. "We climbed over and walked down that dirt road a while before reaching the real one."

"The real one?"

"Yeah. The real gate," she said, pausing for a moment. "Guards everywhere, all wearing helmets and carrying rifles."

"Did you get caught?"

"No," Molly said, laughing quietly. "We weren't quite that brave. Just watched for a while." Molly looked at John as he sucked in his breath. "What?"

"I just realized...you don't have clearance."

"What?"

"Sherlock said he would get me clearance to get in," he said, looking at Molly. "He doesn't know about you."

"So what, you want me to be your chauffeur and wait for you here?"

"Well, we may have no choice." He watched as Molly turned, opening her door and stepping out onto the dirt beneath them. "Molly, wait...you're going to get yourself killed," he said, following as he shut the car door behind him.

"We're both going to get in," Molly said, stopping in front of the gate before mounting it, swinging her legs over the rusted railing and hopping down to the other side. "Or neither or us are."

"Can we at least...park the car?" He glanced at their station wagon, which was parked directly in front of the entrance.

"Don't worry about it. It's my brother's." She smiled, motioning for John to follow.

"Would you mind explaining why exactly we took brother's car?"

"Didn't want to take the chance. This is...this is Sherlock we're talking about," she said, smiling weakly as she stumbled over his name. John looked at her from his side of the gate, before reaching over and gently patting her shoulder.

"Listen...whatever he said to you yesterday..." he began, watching as her eyes lifted to meet his. "Whatever he said, he did it to keep you safe."

"I hope so."

"He did. And he..." he paused, biting his lip. "He cares about you." Molly smiled, nodding.

"It's what I like to think," she said, breathing in slowly as she glanced at the branches above them. "Air's nice, isn't it?"

"Yeah," John said, struggling to slide himself over the gate. "Very fresh." They both froze as a black car pulled up next to the station wagon, the driver's side door opening as the engine shut off.

"So," Gregory Lestrade called out, shutting the car door as he removed his sunglasses. "What's the mystery today?"

"Apparently Sherlock's in need of our help," John said, giving Molly a sideways glance.

"Or he wants an audience for whatever miraculous feat of deduction he plans on performing," Lestrade said, raising an eyebrow.

"That sounds about right," John said, smiling a bit. "What brings you here, Inspector?"

"You two," Lestrade said, glancing between the two of them. "I was curious after you had the department look up the hospital's number."

"Well, unless you plan on breaking into a high security military base, I would recommend heading back to the Yard." John bit his lip, watching as the Inspector narrowed his eyes.

"I think an explanation here might be appropriate..."

"We don't...have one," Molly said, her voice quiet as she met Lestrade's gaze. He stared back at her, watching as she shivered slightly.

"Well. Might help to have an inspector with you, then," Lestrade said after a moment, looking at John. "If what you're doing involves breaking into military bases."

"I'm surprised your not arresting us," Molly said quickly, smiling nervously as she shot John a look.

"Yeah. Me too," Lestrade said, opening the gate slightly and stepping through. "But this is Sherlock we're talking about." He shut the gate quietly behind them. "As much as I hate to admit it, I trust him."

"I'd better call Sherlock," John said, reaching into his jacket for his phone. "Hope fully he can...make arrangements."


	3. Chapter 3

_ADRAD Operations Base_

"Sherlock!" Mycroft's voice sounded from outside Sherlock's room as he pounded on the door. "Sherlock, let me in before I have the Lieutenant break open this door!"

"I'm a free man, Mycroft," Sherlock said, walking towards the door and slowly turning the doorknob. "I could walk out of Bradwell right now and go home. Without having to worry about being sent to Belmarsh." Mycroft stepped in, slamming the door behind him as he glared back at him.

"No, you can't. Without the proper clearance, no one enters or leaves this operation. And I don't plan on letting you go until you've finished what I intend for you to do."

"I think you're lying. Seeing as I should know when you're lying by now," Sherlock smiled, watching with contentment as his brother fumed. "I think you came in here to tell me that...oh, let me guess. I have visitors?"

"How did you get them in here, Sherlock?"

"I have connections," Sherlock said, crossing his arms. "I'm sure you know what that's like..."

"Sherlock, you don't understand. This could jeopardize everything."

"How, exactly?"

"We can't have three of your little friends tromping around with you when you're working on this project..."

"Three?"

"Yes," Mycroft said, clearly annoyed. "John, the Inspector...and that mortician friend of yours from St. Bart's..."

"Molly?" Sherlock's eyes widened slightly as he stared at his brother. "How did she...get through security?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

"She's not..." Sherlock trailed off, his mind in a haze. He glanced at his brother after a moment, his eyes narrowing. "Where did you put them?"

"They're in the holding room," Mycroft said, raising his chin slightly. "And I suggest you find a way of getting them out of here. Before it's too late."

**oOo**

"Leave," Sherlock said, turning to face the soldier at the door. He nodded slowly, stepping through the steel door frame and shutting the door behind him. Sherlock glanced at the low ceiling of the holding cell, reaching up his hands and running his fingers over the textured surface. He stopped about two feet from the the wall, digging his fingernail into the plaster.

"What are you doing?" Lestrade said after a moment, watching as he pulled out a thin metal pin from above their heads.

"Cameras," Sherlock said, snapping the pin in half and walking across the room and working his fingers into the same spot on the other side. "The military has a low tolerance for privacy."

"Apparently," John said, glancing at Molly. They all watched as Sherlock approached them, stopping in front of them as he slipped the broken camera pieces into his pocket.

"Any problems getting in?" Sherlock said, looking directly at John.

"No. Nothing more than...expected," he said, staring into his pale eyes.

"I knew you would bring Lestrade," Sherlock said, glancing at the Inspector. "Or that he would bring himself."

"I followed them," Lestrade said, nodding at John and Molly. "Knew you had to be in some sort of trouble."

"Not trouble," Sherlock said, turning and walking towards the far wall. "Mycroft likes to think I am, but that's nothing new..."

"What's this about?" John said, glancing between Lestrade and Molly. "Why do you need into the Ministry's files?"

"Not yet," Sherlock said, bring his hands together against his lips. "You'll find out soon enough."

"You sound like your brother," John muttered.

"Why did you bring her?" Sherlock said suddenly, turning back towards them as he caught Molly's eye.

"I borrowed her car," John said, looking between Sherlock and Molly as they stared at each other. "Well, her brother's, actually..."

"Why did you bring here in?" Sherlock repeated, watching as Molly's eyes narrowed slightly.

"She said that..."

"Because I wanted to come," Molly said, interrupting John. Sherlock raised his head slightly, examining her face.

"How did she get in?" he said after a moment.

"She said she was your psychiatrist. They let her in because we both had clearance," Lestrade said slowly, watching with confusion as the two of them continue their stare down.

"Well," Sherlock said after a long silence, smiling between the three of them. "Let's begin."

The group followed Sherlock as he opened the door, exiting the room behind him.

"Are we done here, Mr. Holmes?" Lieutenant Brinkley said, holding out the palm of his hand.

"What?"

"Let's not start off today by stealing government property." He smirked as Sherlock rolled his eyes, digging into his pocket and setting the broken pins into his hand. He closed his fingers, handing the cameras to the soldier at his left. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

"You're very welcome," Sherlock said, reaching behind him and grabbing Molly's arm, pulling her to his side. "Now I need you to do me a favor, Lieutenant."

"Yes?"

"Get her out," Sherlock said, pushing Molly towards the Lieutenant.

"Sherlock, let me go..."

"I heard she's your therapist."

"Psychiatrist," John said from behind Sherlock.

"Yes," the Lieutenant said, glancing at Molly suspiciously. "Likely story."

"I can't have here fussing over me while I'm working," Sherlock said, glancing at Molly as she tried tearing her arms from his grasp. "It's very distracting."

"Well, I have no problem giving her clearance to leave," he said, watching as Molly struggled against Sherlock's grip. "Of course, there's a twenty-four hour processing period for civilians. She'd have to wait..."

"I want her out NOW, Lieutenant!" Sherlock shouted suddenly, pushing Molly towards the Lieutenant and running his fingers through his curls. "I can't think. I can't think..."

"What's going on?" The Lieutenant said, glancing at Molly. "Is this one of his psychological...problems?"

"Yes. Probably a combination of his Aspergers and various sociopathic disorders acting up at the moment," Molly said quickly, eying Sherlock. "He isn't normally like this...usually this sort of thing only happens under extremely stressful conditions..."

"And we haven't even started him on the operation, yet," the Lieutenant said, watching with vague amusement as Sherlock paced up and down the hallway, breathing heavily.

"Sherlock, if you don't stop..." Molly began, reaching into her purse slowly as she watched him. "I'm going to have to give you a tranquilizer."

"His what?" John asked, his eyes widening as Sherlock began stomping across the linoleum floor.

"Tranquilizer," she said quietly, approaching Sherlock as one would approach a wild animal.

"NO! I am not taking a tranquilizer!" Sherlock shouted angrily, pounding against the steel wall. Molly lunged, grabbing Sherlock's arm and stabbing a needle into his shoulder. He froze, his face softening instantly as his knees grew weak.

"Molly, what the hell..." Lestrade began, watching as Sherlock crumpled to the floor. The Lieutenant glanced at Molly, who slipped the needle into a zip-lock bag and back into her purse.

"Should I...bring him to his room?" The Lieutenant asked, staring down at Sherlock's unconscious body.

"I think that would do him well," Molly said coolly, glancing at John and Lestrade. "The effects won't last long."

"Good," Lieutenant Brinkley said, shaking his head. "We've got a lot of work to do today."

"Be gentle with him," Molly said, watching as two Shoulders lifted the detective's body, moving it down the hallway. She followed, motioning to Lestrade and John.

"What was that?" John whispered into Molly's ear.

"An empty syringe," she said, grinning back at him. "He's quite the actor."


	4. Chapter 4

"You don't have to be so quiet, Molly," Sherlock said, not turning his head as Molly froze, halfway between the door's opening.

"I didn't want to...wake you," she said, sliding herself through the doorway.

"Shut the door." Sherlock kept his face buried in his pillow as Molly nodded, drawing the door to a close.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, watching as Sherlock sat up on his bed, glancing in her direction.

"Fine."

"That's good." She drew in a deep breath, gazing around the room. "I'm impressed."

"With what?"

"Your...performance." She smiled to herself, glancing at her feet. "Your lucky I had an empty one handy."

"I had to convince the Lieutenant that you were my psychiatrist," Sherlock said, gazing at Molly. "He wasn't buying your story."

"And why didn't you let him throw me out? You clearly..." She paused, collecting her words as she avoided Sherlock's eyes. "You clearly don't need me here. Or...want me here."

"No, I don't want you here," he said, watching as Molly stared at him.

"Alright."

"And yet, you're here," Sherlock said after a moment, gazing intently back at her. "That has to mean something."

"What do you mean?"

"Nevermind," Sherlock said. He stood up, brushing against Molly's shoulder as he approached the door.

"Sherlock..."

"Come on," he said, looking back to where she stood. He smiled slightly after a moment, opening the door and motioning for Molly to follow him. "Let's not keep Mycroft waiting."

**oOo**

"The purpose of this operation is to develop new weapon systems that allow us to strengthen our defense against foreign attacks," the Lieutenant said, hands held behind his back as he paced before his audience. "Primarily terrorist attacks."

"There has been a breech in our coding walls," Mycroft said from the back of the room, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. "We need you to located it and the person or organization behind it so we can proceed with the operation." Sherlock eyed the ground, listening intently to his brother's words without turning around.

"And?" Sherlock said after a moment, raising an eyebrow.

"And what?"

"Continue," Sherlock said, smirking. "You were doing so well, Mycroft."

"What are you talking about..."

"Tell me what you're not telling me, or I'll say it myself." Sherlock turned around as Mycroft's icy stare flickered ever so slightly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, brother."

"Alright," Sherlock said, standing up as the Lieutenant moved towards him.

"Mr. Holmes, sit back down..."

"In fact, I think everyone in this room ought to know," Sherlock said loudly, a small smile crossing his face. He turned to the three people who had been sitting beside him, clearing his throat. "We have precisely thirty-six hours to find the person behind the security breech."

"What is he talking about?" The Lieutenant said, glancing between Sherlock and Mycroft. "Thirty-six hours?"

"Sherlock," Mycroft said quietly, his face growing pale. "Please, don't."

"My brother hasn't told you the best part about our mission today," Sherlock said, nodding towards Mycroft from where he stood. "The breech isn't just a threat to the Ministry's highly-sensitive files," He paused, waiting as everyone stared back at him. "In thirty-six hours, the charges detonate." They room grew silent, a cold anticipation descending upon them like a fog.

"As in the bombs go off," Sherlock said slowly, not sure if he had made his point clearly enough.

"What's he talking about, Mycroft?" The Lieutenant said, glancing at the elder of the two Holmes brothers.

"The truth," Mycroft said after a moment, watching Sherlock from his end of the room. He didn't bother asking his brother where he had gotten the information, or more likely how he had deduced it. "We have thirty-six hours until the terrorist threat becomes a very dangerous and likely painful situation, Lieutenant," he said, straightening a bit. He lifted his head slightly, smiled bitterly back at the stunned faces surrounding him. "So I think it would be appropriate if we started our project ahead of schedule."


	5. Chapter 5

_I apologize for the lack of John/Sherlock dialogue and Sherlollyness in general, but it's coming, I promise! I wrote a chapter yesterday consisting entirely of Sherlock/Molly sappiness, but haven't quite found a place to put it yet. Trying to make this interesting and worth reading plot-wise, too :)_

_ADRAD Mission Control_

"Sherlock, you can't do things like this when it comes to national security!" Mycroft fumed, whispering in his brother's ear as the Lieutenant hurriedly lead the group towards the mission control room. "I had just received word of threat's extent not one hour ago..."

"We don't have time for your politics," Sherlock said, keeping his eyes forwards as they walked through a small door that opened into an even tinier hallway. "One hour can make all the difference."

"I didn't want chaos," Mycroft said, glaring at Sherlock angrily as the Lieutenant stopped at another door, pulling out a security card and swiping it through a device at the right of the door frame.

"You didn't want to be wrong," Sherlock said, turning to Mycroft. "You weren't sure, and you didn't want to risk your reputation over something that may not exist." Mycroft stared back at Sherlock, pressing his lips together as he collected himself, breathing in slowly.

"We still don't know if the threat is real..."

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock said, giving his brother one last look before following the Lieutenant through the open door. "We're going to find out if this threat is real, and either way it's going to be your fault."

"Well," Mycroft said icily, the confident smile returning to his face. "Seeing how I'm always the one cleaning up your messes...why don't you clean up mine for a change?"

"You don't want me to clean up your mess. You want me to be responsible for it," Sherlock said angrily, turning to the Lieutenant. "Where's the computer?"

"Which one?" The Lieutenant asked, nodding to the row of monitors set up before them. Each one was manned by a person dressed in military attire, typing away furiously at their keyboards while talking into their headset.

"Doesn't matter," Sherlock said, walking down the row and examining each one. "You can access the files for the coding wall from any of them, yes?"

"Since when does he know anything about computers?" Lestrade asked, standing behind John and Molly as they watched Sherlock stop behind one man's desk, peering at his screen as the man hunched himself over his keyboard, speaking in some unrecognizable language to the person at the other end of the headset.

"Doesn't have to. His mind is a computer," John said with a small smile, shaking his head. Sherlock glanced between the man and the computer screen, waving his hand in front of his face after a bit.

_"Z_end-zee be-sheft deht?" Sherlock said in what John recognized as German, watching as the man at the computer started. He looked up in surprise, pushing his glassed towards the bridge of his nose.

"Yah..." the man began before Sherlock placed his hands beneath his arms, lifting him out of the chair and sliding the headphones from over his ears.

"Danke," Sherlock said, flashing a smile before sitting down at the desk, eyes focused on the screen in front of him. He held the headset to one of his ears, adjusting the microphone attached at the side.

"Hallo? Nicht, ich heisse Sherlock Holmes...ja, sie sind falsch verbunden," he said, unplugging the headphones and tossing them on the floor.

"That was our security unit at the German embassy, in case you're wondering," Mycroft said, glancing at John as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Password, password...password," Sherlock muttered, tapping on he desk as he stared back at the screen.

"Sherlock, I can give you the code..."

"Not now, Mycroft," he said loudly, smirking as he began typing into the box in the center of the computer screen. He finished, entering the key and watching as the screen began filling with file names.

"Son of a bitch," Lestrade murmured, shaking his head as he glanced at John. "It's a wonder they bother with passwords anymore."

"Which file is it?" Sherlock turned to face Mycroft, waiting for a response.

"The one titled 'Armageddon'," he replied, watching as Sherlock began scrolling through file names. "Quite appropriate, I think."

"Boring," Sherlock said, stopping and staring at the screen for a moment before clicking one of the icons. "And highly unoriginal," he added. They all watched as the screen went black, a message appearing at the top in small white letters.

"Hebrew," Sherlock said after a moment, looking to Mycroft, who was peering at the screen over his shoulder.

"What?"

"What does it say?"

"How would I know?"

"Didn't the person at the Ministry who tipped you on the threat mention what it said?"

"No."

"Did you bother asking?"

"When there's the imminent possibility of a terrorist attack, usually one isn't particularly concerned with the exact nature of the..." Sherlock rolled his eyes, ignoring Mycroft as he stood, surveying the room. His gaze fell upon a woman at the far end of his row, scribbling something down on a sheet of paper as she sat at her desk.

"You, blonde hair," Sherlock shouted across the room. The woman jumped, looking up along with everyone else in the room. She looked at him questioningly, eying Sherlock as everyone else stared between them.

"Israel?" he asked, pointing at her. She nodded slowly.

"Over here, please," he said, motioning her towards his desk. She stood up, pushing in her chair before scurrying towards the group surrounding the computer. Mycroft stood aside as she approached Sherlock, gazing at him curiously.

"Translate," Sherlock said coolly, nodding towards the message on the screen.

"How did he know she was with Israel's security unit?" The Lieutenant asked, glancing at Mycroft.

"She was writing from right to left," Sherlock said, making room for the woman as she leaned in towards the screen. "Her strokes weren't fluid, so clearly it wasn't Arabic or any other Middle-eastern language." They watched as the woman took out a pen and notepad, muttering quietly to herself as her eyes traveled quickly over the string of symbols.

"Here," she said after a moment, her face pale as she scribbled a final word before tearing off the sheet, handing it to Sherlock. She stood for a moment, waiting for his response.

"You can go now," Sherlock said, glancing up at her after a moment.

"You're welcome," she said, her eyes narrowing as she turned on her heel, moving quickly back towards her desk.

"Manners, Sherlock?" John said quietly as Sherlock read the note. He held up his finger, running over the words a second time before looking up.

"Tick-tock. Your time is up at twelve o'clock," he read softly, his brow furrowing. "Two, nine, thirteen, twenty, thirty-four, forty-five, forty-seven, seventy-one."

"That gives us thirty-four hours," John said, looking at his watch.

"But we knew that already," Mycroft said, watching as Sherlock crumpled the paper, tossing it in the waste bin beneath the desk. "What do the numbers mean?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said, closing his eyes as he held his fingers to the sides of his head. "Military IDs...how many numbers?"

"Nine."

"We're one short," he muttered, pacing now. "Not a place..."

"Why not?" Lestrade asked, looking at Sherlock as he lifted his head. "They could be coordinates."

"No," Sherlock said, shaking his head. He watched as the Lieutenant tapped Mycroft's shoulder, leaning in towards his ear.

"The ministry is going to want an evacuation of all its outlying facilities soon if this is a real threat," he said, glancing at Sherlock. "That means we're going to have to get everyone out in an hour or two. Even him."

"If we leave, we can't stop it," Sherlock said, looking at his brother. The Lieutenant shook his head.

"The Ministry will keep their specialists on it at headquarters. If they can't stop it, I doubt anyone can." He paused, looking at rest of the group standing behind him. "Civilians will be evacuated first..."

"I'm not a civilian," John said quickly, looking up at the Lieutenant. "Royal Army Medical Corps."

"Doesn't matter. Everyone's going to be evacuated at some point," he said, eying Sherlock, who returned his stare. His eyes crinkled ever so slightly, barely hinting at a smile. "Time's a-wasting, Mr. Holmes."


	6. Chapter 6

"This is ridiculous, Sherlock. Your brother drags you all the way out here, threatening to throw you in prison if you refuse, then they tell us that we've got two hours to prevent a massive explosion that may or may not cause the death of thousands of people." John stopped, watching as Sherlock continued tossing his rubber ball in the air, catching it with his right hand as he rested the other beneath his head. They were sitting in what was intended to be Sherlock's room during his stay at the base, furnished only with a mattress paired with a steel bed frame and a desk in the opposite corner. John leaned against the far wall, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling as Lestrade seated himself atop the desk. Molly stood by the door, shivering slightly as cold air blew in from the vent above. Sherlock tossed the ball again, catching it and this time holding it in his grasp.

"We're missing something."

"Of course we're missing something," Lestrade said, picking at a spot of paint on his shoe before looking up. "Where this bomb actually is. Which is why the numbers have to point us to a location somehow."

"But if this is a terrorist attack, why would they turn it into a game like this?" John said, catching Sherlock's eye. "Their goal wouldn't be to entertain themselves...it would be to kill as many people as discreetly as possible."

"Exactly," Sherlock said, sitting up and tossing the ball to the corner of the room. "We're thinking of the wrong sort of terrorist."

"So there's just some psychotic killer out there who happens to be intelligent enough to hack into the Ministry's network and plant a bomb somewhere all because he's bored?" Lestrade asked, glancing at John.

"No, he has a nobler cause than that," Sherlock said, biting his lip. "I just...don't know what."

"We need more information," Lestrade said, shaking his head.

"We need more time," John said, frustrated. There was a pause; John sighed as Sherlock dug his fingers into his scalp, staring at the linoleum tiling at his feet.

"What if we escaped?" Molly said quietly. Everyone looked up, puzzled frowns crossing John and Lestrade's faces. She glanced at Sherlock, who stared at her curiously. "What if we made them think we had left the base without clearance..." she said, holding his gaze. "Then somehow managed to get back in and finish solving this with the twenty-some hours we would have left, instead of..."

"...instead of being evacuated," Sherlock said slowly, a small smile finding its way to his face as he stood suddenly. "Molly, you're brilliant. You're absolutely brilliant." He crossed the room, reaching down for his ball and quickly slipping it back into his pocket.

"How?" John said, straightening as Sherlock stood next to him, reaching up towards the ceiling. He watched as Sherlock tapped a spot with his forefinger, digging into the chipped paint with his nails. "Don't tell me they've been listening to us this entire time..."

"No, not listening," Sherlock said, pulling out another camera pin and staring at it a moment. He watched its green light flash on and off, timing the interval in his head. "Watching." He tossed the pin on the floor, glancing at John and nodding towards the door. "Come on."

They filed out of the room, first Lestrade, followed by John. Sherlock stopped just before stepping through the door frame, reaching for Molly's face with his hand. He smiled for a moment, watching her expression change as he bent down, gently kissing her cheek. "Thank you, Molly." He turned around, sliding himself around the door to the outside wall, pulling her along with him as they waited against the wall behind John. Molly shook her head, surprised and more than slightly confused as she waited behind Sherlock, her nose touching the sleeve his thick gray coat. Sherlock counted in his head, meanwhile wondering why he had the sudden urge to turn and kiss Molly again. Though perhaps not on the cheek this time.

"Now," Sherlock said after about five seconds, pushing John forward into a run as they slid around the corner, leading them to another dimly lit corridor. Sherlock motioned for them to stop, counting again as they caught their breath.

"What are we doing, exactly?" John asked, glancing down both ends of the hallway.

"Escaping," Sherlock said, keeping his eyes locked on the space in front of him. "The camera cycle changes cameras every five seconds._._.andNOW," he said, pushing them forward as they took off down the corridor. They stopped by the door at the end, breathing heavily as Sherlock wrapped his fingers around the handle.

"Each camera cycle has three cameras, so as long as we're not under the surveillance of the one that's being monitored..." he paused, waiting one more second before opening the door, pulling Molly through before shutting it behind him. "Then we ought not to get caught."

"Unless you're just having a bad day," a familiar voice behind them said quietly, echoing off the hallway's thick walls. "And sometimes there's very little we can do about those things. Don't you think, Mr. Holmes?"


End file.
